


Wormwood Makes Friends

by RictaAzera



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Don't Starve Together, First Impressions, Found Family, first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RictaAzera/pseuds/RictaAzera
Summary: Wormwood is used to loneliness in the jungle. But when Charlie finds him in the dark one night, she thinks he'd make a great addition to her court with the rest of Don't Starve Together's cast. Will he adjust to this new Constant? And how will the other inhabitants treat him? But most importantly: can he make some new friends?





	1. Wormwood Wakes Up Somewhere Else

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first fanfic, so comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated. I've been reading fics for a while, and I've been really enjoying playing as Wormwood in DST, but there is a severe lack of fics for this good plant boy. So why not give it a shot myself?
> 
> Leave comments below on who you think Wormwood should run into first in DST! I have some plans on who is already teamed up in the Constant, but I am open to suggestions. 
> 
> Thanks

It was not unusual for Wormwood to wake up by himself. He’d quickly figured out that not many things in the jungle liked his voice, so he mostly kept to himself. It wasn’t bad, overall. The vines hugged him when the loneliness got to him, and the glow bugs were bright enough to keep the darkness at bay most of the time. The moon gazed down, and while he hadn’t made enough oincs to befriend one of the Pigs in the village, he knew the moon would always be there for him with its warm light. 

Until the night it wasn’t. The moon had been getting smaller and smaller, waning away until Wormwood was worried it had been eaten. He’d only been friends with it for just under a month now, and it too was leaving. Dejected and unable to trap enough glow bugs to fill the light the moon used to make, Wormwood crawled into his bed of vines, hoping to sleep until the sun came back up. 

Out of the darkness, something hissed. 

“Someone there?” Wormwood sat up a little, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The jungle was pitch black, but something moved in the underbrush. He fumbled for a torch, but with not even the moonlight to help him, he couldn’t seem to find where he had left it. A claw scratched down his center as Wormwood cried out, curling into himself. As his vision started to fade, claws grasped him as something laughed. 

\-----

Something was tweeting. They sounded different from the ones in the jungle.

Wormwood carefully opened his eyes to find himself somewhere completely different. A massive gate loomed over him, covered in roses and thorns. The roses laughed softly, before whispering,  _ Welcome to the Queen’s play area, little tree.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming for short & sweet chapters, in a bid to avoid burnout. Please be patient, I will try my best to post every Sunday. Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!


	2. A New First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wormwood's first day exploring this new Constant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said a week but I was inspired. Chpt 3 will be on Sunday, it just needs refining.
> 
> Yes, I'm going to have the plants talk to Wormwood. All plant text is in italics. 
> 
> Comments & Kudos are greatly appreciated, and remember to comment which survivor you think Wormwood should meet first!

Wormwood had tried asking the tall rose gate more questions, but all it had done was giggle at him more, saying to go get his bearings and some snacks before dark. They were right in that regard, his belly had started rumbling just a little while ago. But everything was so new and different here! The air held a crispness to it that the jungles heavy air had never shown, and the usual undergrowth he had been used to were missing, replaced by smooth, short grass that tickled his leaves as he walked towards a nearby bush.

“Hello friend! Spare belly filler?”he asked, gently brushing aside some spare branches. True to form, some red berries were hidden away, which helped take the edge off. _Hello sweetie, don’t be greedy_ , said the bush. _Are you new here?_

“Yes! Wormwood’s lost.”

The bush sigh-ed in the breeze. _Everyone here is lost, sweetie. But try your best! I can make more berries while you explore._ Wormwood perked up, before dashing off to a forest in the distance. The bushes were so nice! Was everything here that nice? And who was everyone? Wormwood hoped that if there was a everyone, than they could be his friend here. 

The trees were different from the ones in the jungle. They were pointed, with tiny little leaves.

“Hey friend, how’s things?”

This tree was quieter, muttering just soft enough that Wormwood could only hear it when he got just underneath its branches. _Hey bud. It’s nice to see someone new._ And the two talked for awhile, before Wormwood moved on.

His afternoon followed this trend, with Wormwood greeting friends new and old. Evening fell with a gentle sigh, as he settled at the base of a sleeping tree. He’d trimmed some chatty grass and twigs for their hair, before making a bunch of torches. Whoever had attacked him in the dark before was not a friend that he wanted to meet again. The light from the torch was small however, and the shadows deep in the distance, aside from the distant fire.

Wait, distant fire?

Wormwood squinted, trying to make out details. It was small enough that he was pretty sure it wasn’t a forest fire, thankfully. It was small and contained. A campfire maybe? He looked at his torch carefully. Could whoever was out there see his light too? He figured no, as the torch was small and weak. Should he go see if anyone was there?

Wormwood paused. On the one hand, it could mean more friends, someone to help him survive and learn more about this strange world. On they other, they might be mean and scared of him, like everything else so far. Rejection stung, but so did loneliness. Was it worth the risk?

He’d wait for the morning. He could watch from a distance like he had before, like he had with other animals. Watch and listen.


	3. An Unsuspecting Scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wormwood meets his first resident of the Constant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to anyone who can figure out where the inspiration for this chapter title comes from. Also: personal opinion but I like to think Wilson is an overly dramatic man.

As dawn was approaching, Wormwood used the remaining darkness to sneak closer to the camp. There was a small group of bushes nearby, which happily offered their branches to let him peer out unseen.

A figure sat at the campfire, murmuring to itself as it ran a hand through its messy hair. It was a person with wild black hair, a red vest, and long gloves, which were currently holding a stack of papyrus pages. They were making small marks on the pages as their fire burned lower and lower. He really was talking very quietly, so Wormwood squirmed a little closer, straining to hear.

“...weather in the region surrounding the Gate maintaining expected temperatures, skewing towards temperate and calm over extremes in any measure. Flower and insect populations higher than normal, but not exponentially. Likely drawn by the Gate itself. Studies on the other local flora and fauna still pending, requires further study. Other things to do...,” the man paused for a moment as his stomach gives a rumble.”... eat breakfast, I suppose.” Putting down the papers, he raised his arms above his head as he stretched, before turning and pulling food out of his backpack that lay beside him.

Under the bush, Wormwood pondered over what he had learned. While most of what the man had said made very little sense to him, he did get the impression that he was keeping track of the plants in this area. By that logic, he must really like plants as well! The day was just beginning, and already it looked like Wormwood might have found a possible new friend. Now what? Should he just approach this man now? It felt strange to interrupt what he was doing, even if he was just eating breakfast. You had to be careful when you approached the pigs after all, and they weren’t very nice this early in the morning; would this man be the same?

It was a real conundrum. It would have continued to be a conundrum if the bush above Wormwood's head didn’t suddenly sprout a Gobbler, who proceeded to trample over Wormwood with a screech, dislodging him, as it spotted the man and fled in the opposite direction. This whole exchange left Wormwood winded, sticking partially out of the bush, and in full sight of the now staring man, who’d leapt to his feet. 

“Uh,” said the man, eloquently. Wormwood could agree with his sentiment as the two were locked in their staring contest. “What are you?”

“Hello?” Wormwood responded, carefully sitting up as the man backed up a few steps, reaching a hand back towards... something. “Friend maybe?”

“L-let’s go with ‘friend’,” the man said. He fidgeted for a moment before seeming to peer closer at Wormwood. “Really though, what are you? Some sort of sentient plant? Or is the plant life just a shell? You’re much smaller than even the smallest treeguard, so you’re probably not one of them...” Here he jumped, before hurriedly adding, “Oh, where are my manners? My name is Wilson P. Higgsbury, gentleman scientist!” He paused, as if an invisible audience were clapping at his introduction. “And who might you be?”

“...Wormwood? Wormwood is plant friend.”

Wilson seemed to be getting over his initial caution as he stared with unabashed curiosity at this botanical miracle. It seemed to be crafted from some sort of vine, with the only non organic substance being a green gem gleaming at its core, which might hint at a power source of some kind. Wilson held very little truck with magic, but he’d been in this land long enough to at least recognize the possibilities. The plant itself seemed not to mind, as he stared at Wilson with equal glee, the slight worry on his face fading the longer neither ran away from each other. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Wormwood. And I must say, you are simply fascinating. A bipedal plant, let alone a speaking one. I wonder...” Wilson frowned. “Are you here alone? Or are there others like you?

“Only Wormwood. And plant friends. And friend!” Wormwood gestured to Wilson, taking a small step closer. Wilson hesitated, but stood his ground. It wouldn’t do to scare a such an interesting creature... plant... thing, but over a year in this land demanded he remain vigilant. At least it (he?) seemed friendly, and determined to be friends. That’s all that Wilson could assume, considering Wormwood had said the word ‘friend’ four times already, making it the most common word in his seemingly limited vocabulary. 

“Well then, my dear Wormwood, what kind of friend would I be to leave a ‘bud’ out here by himself? Would you like to come with me back to my friends camp? It is much nicer than this one, if I do say so myself.” Wilson picked up his bag.

Literal stars could have been in Wormwood's eyes, with how bright they were shining. “More friends! Yes, yes please Science Man!”

Wilson chuckled nervously as Wormwood trotted after him. On the bright side,Wilson thought, he doesn’t seem to be much more intelligent than a young child, going by his vocabulary. Hopefully that also meant he wasn’t the cunning type, waiting to gain his trust before striking a deadly blow. Than again, plants were known for traps and ruses, particularly the ones that were carnivorous. He’d have to make further investigations, possibly see if he could convince his new ‘friend’ to sit for some experiments. This was much more important than whatever environmental phenomena surrounded the Florid Postern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm still figuring out how end notes and other AO3 aspects work, so apologizes if anything is weird. I'm trying to update this once a week (on Sundays), with maybe the occasional mid-week update if I'm inspired. I'm aiming for short and sweet chapters, so don't be discouraged by the word count/ chapter count!
> 
> Kudos & Comments are always appreciated, especially since this is my first published fanfic. Enjoy!


	4. Camping Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wormwood follows Wilson back to one of their main camps, and Wilson introduces him to a new friend.

Wilson and Wormwood set out from Wilson’s temporary base near the Florid Postern towards a path in the forest, hidden by trees. While Wilson did his best to move as quickly as possible, Wormwood seemed intent on being as distracted as possible, stopping every few minutes to run up to various trees along the path and chatter away, or to run to bushes and pet them. Sure, gathering resources was a fine thing, but Wilson wasn’t one to waste time like this. Besides, he had outstanding experiments to focus on, and the list only grew longer with this plant person. Finally, he couldn’t stay quiet.

“What exactly are you doing,” Wilson asked, as Wormwood trotted back to the path where he was waiting, foot tapping an irregular beat. “We still have a way to go, we cannot be stopping every few seconds to do... whatever it is you’ve been doing.” Wilson arched an impressive eyebrow. It was one of his few personal traits that he was actually fond of. People could make fun of his wild hair or his acid stained hands all they wanted, but there was nothing like an impressive glower to shut down any complaints.

Wormwood however, did not seem to be properly cowed by them. “Was greeting! Lot’s of rumors, lots of different things here than at home.” And that much was true, he didn’t want to seem rude to all these nice friends along the path. But, Wormwood supposed, maybe Wilson didn’t understand that? The pigs had always been busy and running around, never saying anything to the plants and farms they kept in their villages, even though they had a ton. The plants there had been fine, happy to be taken care of, but Wormwood had always made sure to thank them on behalf of the pigs anyway. “They know things,” he said, a touch defensively.

Wilson rolled his eyes. “Like what, when the next hound attack is coming? Where the next monstrosity bent on our destruction is due to come from and attempt to destroy what little piece of civilization that we’ve made for ourselves?” Even to Wilson himself, he could tell that was a little mean. He made a mental note to make sure he got some sleep tonight, his mental filter was shot, and he was clearly being rude. “I’m sorry, but what do they know, Wormwood?”

“Things! Fuzzy squee beasts over there, pretty friends there,” Surprisingly, Wormwoods wayward gestures were actually correct, as far as Wilson could tell. If he meant rabbits and flowers, of course. The language was primitive, but the knowledge was there. Wilson shook his head. There would be more time to learn when they were safely back at camp.

“Well, hurry up, please. According to my notes, we are due for another hound attack soon, and I would much rather make sure you are situated in camp well before they arrive. You can say hi at another time.” Wilson perked up, as he realized something. “In fact, there are a number of gardens that we have at camp, maybe you can say hello to them? I’d imagine you have quite the green thumb for those kinds of things.” That seemed to be the right thing to say, as Wormwood rushed over, bouncing in excitement. 

Now at a faster pace, it took no time to make it to Wilson’s base with plenty of light left in the day. A quick glance proved that most everyone was out at the moment, as everyone wanted to make the most of the sunlight. A cluster of tents, a pristine pair of fire pits, a crummy garden... Wilson sighed. Who knew such simple things could be the difference between survival and death? It was a far call from his old lab, but it was a good deal better than his original camp. He turned to face Wormwood, saying “Alright buddy, let's get you to my tent so we can figure out exactly how you...”

A quick survey showed Wormwood was already in the camp, and had run up to their little garden area. “Hello friends! Growing well?” He poked at their bedding, fussing with it to give the plants a little room to breath.  _ Hi, hi hi! Oh, thanks. Fixing lady does her best, but she is busy most of the time.  _ It was a small garden, but well taken care of overall, with small trellises and lining on the different beds. The whole plot was surrounded by fences that looked to have been fixed numerous times. Wormwood wondered who the Fixing Lady was, and figured he could ask Wilson. Speaking of...

“There you are! You can’t just run off like that, although I can’t say im honestly surprised. Come along, we have science to do!” Here Wilson started to laugh, but before he could get to far into it, another voice called out.

“Wilson! Back so soon? I thought you were checkin’ out the portal today.” A woman came out from near the fire pits, wiping her hands down on a rag. “I finished patching together yer machine again, by the by. The attack wasn’t as bad as I first thought. You should be good to go back and tinker with it to yer heart’s conten-” she stopped cold, spotting Wormwood peering up from where he was on the ground. Before Wilson could do anything, Wormwood popped up and dashed to the fence, leaning over it towards her. 

“Hello Friend! Are you Fixer Lady?” Wormwood was delighted. It looked like he’d been right to follow Wilson, there was another friend here already! Something about her seemed familiar to him, but since he couldn’t place it he dismissed it for the moment. She smelled faintly of roses and dirt.

Wormwood wilted a little at this lady’s silence, but Wilson came to the rescue. “W-winona! I didn’t know you were still at the camp,” Wilson said, as he raised his hands in a placating gesture, putting himself a little in between the other two. As her expression shifted to Wilson, he continued. “This is Wormwood, I found him near the Florid Postern. Isn’t he fascinating? He appears to be some type of sentient plant, though he doesn’t match any of the other fauna we’ve found on this island so far. He seems docile, so I thought I’d bring him back here...” Wilson trailed off into a series of mumbles, that Wormwood couldn’t understand from where he was. The lady, Winona, gave Wilson a disapproving look before approaching Wormwood by the fence.

“So, you’re some kind of overgrown bean sprout? Honestly, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve seen since coming here. You mind if I take a look-see, buddy?” At Wormwoods curious head tilt, she elaborated. “I just want to touch you, kid. I’ve taken care of plants before, so I wanna see how you compare. Did’ja like my garden?” Wormwood nodded furiously, starting to ramble in earnest as Winona carefully patted his head, observing the way his leaves... leaf hands... moved and folded, as naturally as flesh and blood, but still very alien. It certainly felt like a thick vine, or perhaps bark, and he was cool to the touch. It was stiff, but could still move and change with his excited expressions. She nodded along to his excitement, doing her best to follow his broken grammar, not that she could judge. If he was really a plant, even speech was impressive. 


	5. Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson wants to learn more about their new plant companion. However, Winona does NOT approve of his methods, and confronts him about his intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for talk about experimenting on living creatures. Nothing graphic, we just know from Wilson's short that he's definitely experimented on live rats before, so I don't think he'd have a hard time rationalizing it to himself to see how some of his more monstrous companions tick. 
> 
> In this story, the survivors are split across several different camps, instead of all having one huge camp. This helps to prevent giant disasters like the Deerclops or Bearger from destroying their camp and leaving them all in the dust to try and reestablish themselves. Instead, they can retreat to each others camps if something prevents them from staying at their own, while they rebuild and lick their wounds. It also helps prevent some of the larger personalities from constantly butting heads. 
> 
> The camp that Wormwood is at right now is the normal home of Wilson, Willow, Wigfrid, Winona, and Wx-78 (although Wx has a habit of leaving and doing their own thing for long periods of time).

Winona and Wilson were of two minds when it came to what to do with their newfound companion. While Winona was of the opinion that they treat him just like any other survivor, and introduce him to the rest of the camp, Wilson was a little more... reluctant to say the least. The two had secluded themselves to a nearby tent while Wormwood continued to play in the garden, where they could both keep an eye on him and ensure a degree of privacy in their conversation. Which Winona was quickly thankful for, given what Wilson had in mind.

“You can’t run experiments on another living being!”, Winona said for the umpteenth time. “The last time you did, you gave poor Webber severe enough trauma that they wouldn’t agree to be in the same camp as you anymore! And don’t you remember how well that all went down once Wicker got a word of it?” She shivers at the memory. Never underestimate the wrath of a librarian. Knowledge is power, even if that power manifests in a disturbing understanding of torture methods or the ability to summon lighting from the sky. Not to mention that one time she had summoned those horrible tentacle monsters against the Merms.

Wilson would not give up so easily, however. “Science and experimentation are our only hope if we wish to ever escape this place! Besides, it’s thanks to my experiments that we have half the things we have at camp! Or what about when you all wanted me to leave the robot pieces at the swamp? If I hadn’t brought those back with us and worked on restoring them, Wx-78 would never have joined our ranks.”

“It’s also thanks to your experiments that we  _ lose _ half the things we have in the camp. Or did you conveniently forget about that time you and Willow messed with homemade gunpowder?”

Wilson raised his arms, reminding Winona that, “That was only that one time!”. The argument has quickly fallen back into an older, repeated bicker that had been going on for the past few seasons at this point. Doing the same things over and over again expecting different results was a test of lunacy, and Wilson wasn’t ready to fall down that rabbit hole again. He’d need to change things up to get Winona to budge. 

Wilson would try a different approach. “How about this,” he said, with a placating arm gesture. “You can be a witness to all of my experiments. Much like Webber, Wormwood seems to have child-like intelligence at best, and you are correct that I was a little... rash when poking into how Webber’s abilities worked.” There had been a lot of angry spider attacks following Webber’s time working with Wilson. He hadn’t meant to really hurt the kid, but his scientist side combined with a few too many sleepless and hungry nights had led to some poorly thought out plans. “However! My experiments were instrumental in understanding how Webber worked, which has since led to us having a much better relationship with the spiders around camp. Not to mention the benefit of having those spider warriors on our side for a change.”

Winona crossed her arms as she paused to mull this over. “Why experiment at all though, Wil’? He seems straightforward enough. He’s a plant, he probably does plant things.”

“Ah, but how do we know that for sure? He doesn’t look like any of the plants we’ve seen here, and he seems to have some sort of glowing item lodged in his chest.” At Winona’s dubious look, Wilson doubled down. “He seems to be vine based. So far we have seen absolutely zero other vine-based plants in the Constant. Flowers, cacti, trees, swamp bogs, all of those things we’ve seen, but vines are much more common in tropical jungles, which we are lacking. Even Webber’s spider form can be seen in the spiders here, but so far there is nothing remotely similar here that relates to Wormwood.” 

Winona had heard enough. “Fine, fine. But I have some conditions,” she said, jabbing a pointer finger into Wilson’s chest. “We introduce him to the crew tonight. No buts, we need to make sure Wig doesn’t spear him, and that Willow keeps her fire in check. Tomorrow, we take him for a walk with us and bounce the idea of tests off Wormwood himself. You may think he’s a child, but we really have no idea beyond jus’ what we’ve seen. Besides, we should get him used to how things work round here, and I need a supply run anyway. Two birds, one stone.” With her ultimatum out of the way, she retracts her finger, and instead holds out her hand, ready to shake. “Whaddya say?”

Wilson grabs her hand after only a moment, smiling widely. “I can agree to that. Thank you so much Winona, I won’t let you down. This means a lot to me.” Already, his mind was alight with ideas, questions to pursue and information to be sought. He wonders how flexible Wormwood’s vine body is, if he could just shove the vines around to get a peek at his center without requiring surgery. Ah, but that would be a question for much later. 

With a final look, Winona turned to go back outside, where Wormwood was chasing around a butterfly and seemingly trying to talk to it. “Don’t make me regret this, Higgsbury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hit the end of the backed up chapters I had prepared, so with work continuing to be a thing and the east coast heat wave sapping much of my energy, chapters may be a bit more sporadic. But I'm going to try my best to update every week, even if that means each chapter is a little shorted than normal. 
> 
> Fight burnout culture, and take care of yourselves! Kudos & Comments are always appreciated, slow and steady wins the race.


	6. A Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winona and Wormwood eat some dinner, and another member of camp makes her way forward to meet the new arrival. Questions are asked, food is made, and a show is put on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to have both Willow and Wigfrid in it, but Wig got away from me a little haha. I had to cut it a little short to keep these chapters about the same length, but Willow should be there next chapter.

Wormwood was glad to finally spot Winona coming out of the tent that she and Wilson had convened in. He’d gotten a little worried that they had already gotten sick of him, and were going to leave, or kick him out of their nifty camp. But here Winona came, a wry smile on her face as Wormwood rushed to meet her.

“Woah there, buddy! Ya done playing in the garden?” She stared in amazement as Wormwood bounced in front of her, as excitable as a puppy. His face and hands were covered in dirt, but he seemed as happy as can be, so she wasn’t complaining.

“Fixing lady came back! Hooray!” Just as he was saying this, his stomach gave a loud rumble. “Ah, need belly filler...”

Winona chuckled, giving his head another vigorous rub. “Long day, yeah? Do me a favor and grab whatever’s ripe from the garden, I could use some brain food myself. You ever used a crock pot before, bud?” At his head shake, she laughed again, leading him to the center of camp, where a pair of firepits sat unlit, next to the aforementioned crockpot and the fridge. “Wilson and I were talkin’, and we decided that we need to introduce you to the rest of the camp tonight. The others should be coming back soon-”

“Others???” There may have been actual stars in Wormwood’s eyes, with how big they had gotten. “More friends! More friends,” he sang, skipping in circles around Winona, flapping his hands like mad. He stopped, turning to Winona abruptly. “Promise??”

Winona placed her hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him down to sit on a nearby log. “Yes, yes, I promise bud! Sit down, just watching you run around is makin’ me tired. Let’s get some food into you while I tell you about them, yeah?” The crockpot let off a little noise, and Winona reached inside for the meatballs that were finished. After popping one into her mouth, she grabbed some greens to wrap them in, passing them to Wormwood. “Here ya’ go, bud. Eat up!” A thought struck her, looking at his green, plant hands. “You do eat food, right? No issues eating stuff, right?” They already had to put up with Wig’s picky eating, Winona wouldn’t be surprised to find that Wormwood was similar. Maybe he only ate plants or something. 

She didn’t need to worry however, as Wormwood eagerly stuffed his face, eating both meat and leaf with nary a concern. “Yummy! Full belly, full belly,” he said, patting his stomach. How was a freaking bean sprout this cute? Even Webber didn’t speak or act this childish. Winona hummed, putting more ingredients into the crockpot.

“Hey, Worm? Can I call you worm?” Winona waited for his nod before continuing her train of thought. “How old are you, bud?” At his look of confusion, it was clear she needed to elaborate. “Alright, you know how long a day is, right?” Nods, this time looking less confused. “Now, do you know what a month is? Or maybe it would make more sense if I compared it to the moon, that’s easier to track...” At the mention of his first friend, Wormwood perked up.

“Moon is friend! Big, warm glowing friend.” Wormwood wrapped his arms around himself, holding tight. “First friend, pretty friend. Best listener.” He missed the moon. He hadn’t seen it since several nights ago. He hoped it was okay. 

Winona breathed a sigh of relief. At least moon cycles were a reliable way to track time here. “Nice! Now, how many times have you seen the moon when it’s nice and big, when it’s full?”

At his chipper response of “One!”, Winona took a moment to gather her thoughts. If what Wormwood was saying was true...

A rustle from the nearby woods had them both spinning to look, just in time for a triumphant Wigfrid to make her appearance. With her spear and helmet, and her bag brimming with meat, it was clear she had returned from a successful hunt. 

“Greetings, camp! Your great defender returns triumphant!” she said, striding into camp and towards where she could see Winona by the crock pot. Spotting an unfamiliar face, she stopped cold, moving into a defensive position. The only reason her spear was not yet leveled at the foe was his relative closeness to her ally, who must have allowed him there. “Brave Winona! Who is this strange plant before us? A representative of Yggdrasil, perhaps? Or shall I banish it from our camp this instant?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine. A new friend for the camp. C’mere, I’ll tell you after we get some food into you,” Winona said, offering the fresh meatballs to Wigfrid. This was going better than she expected, but she did have to give Wig credit for staying in character. Winona would have to ask Wickerbottem who this ‘Yggdrasil’ was later, maybe it was another reference she had missed. Wigfrid took her food and started eating, but remained standing a good ten feet away from Wormwood, who had seemed to be hit by a bout of shyness at the warrior. “This is Wormwood, Wilson just found him over by the Portal yesterday while he was out. Seems harmless enough, so we brought him back.” Wormwood was looking at Wigfrid in wonder, and glanced back to Winona, as if to ask for permission. She held up her hand for a moment. “And this, Wormwood, is-”

“Now hold on, brave one!” Wigfrid interrupted, with an unreadable expression. Winona was worried, until she saw the sparkle in her eye. Her spear was still tucked away, but she hefted off her backpack and strod before Wormwood, towering above him. “I can give my own introductions! Behold!” Here, she drew her spear and held it aloft, in a suitably dramatic pose. 

“I am known as Wigfrid, slayer of Deerclops and killer of Koalaphants! I am the defender of these lands, and protector of the weak and defenseless! Guardian of the Survivor Camps, and Valkyrie of the Constant! Cross me and face a swift and merciless death, but under my wing you will be safe from harm! For I am here!” She glanced down to see his reaction. This was a shorter introduction than usual for her, but she knew if it got much longer that Winona would complain or interrupt. 

After a moment of silence, Wormwood began to clap. It was a strange sound, and weirdly echo-y, but the intent was there. Wigfrid smiled and put away her spear as he stood up and rushed her. Wormwood said, “Wow! Strong friend! My friend too?” He was a little in awe at the sheer amount of friends that he’d made in such a short time, at this point. Wigfrid laughed, and scooped him up in her arms, much to Wormwood’s delight.

“Oh course, dear Wormwood! A friend of one is a friend to us all! I will be glad to take you under my arms in our fight against this world! Perhaps you can join me tomorrow as I begin my next hunt! After all, today’s haul will surely be used up in a feast celebrating your arrival!” Wigfrid spun him around a couple times, delighting in his shrieks of joy. Winona just smiled as they went on, Wigfrids loud voice filling the camp as the sun started to set behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on time! I wrote this chapter mostly today and yesterday, so editing is minimal at best. The number of times I almost wrote 'Wigfried' instead of 'Wigfrid' is... not surprising, honestly. Spelling is my weakness.
> 
> Comments & Kudos are appreciated, feel free to ask questions and wonder what will happen next! See y'all (hopefully) next week, providing I stay on schedule.


	7. A Robot and an Arsonist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the last two members returning to camp as evening falls, Wormwood meets two of the more... volatile survivors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There are other survivor camps, such as the one Webber is at! These two are just the last two at this particular camp.  
> Sorry this is late, I had a weird week with travel/ work, and while I had half of the chapter written up last Sunday, it didn't feel complete enough to post. Even this isn't all the way to where I wanted story-wise, the chapter just felt too long, and I wanted to post something today.

Early evening was just beginning to set in as two more voices were heard approaching from north of the camp. While Winona and Wigfrid didn’t seem to react much beyond putting more ingredients into the crock pot (at Wigfrid’s insistence), Wormwood sat up more at the promise of even more friends. While Wigfrid had frightened him at first (he’d met the sharp end of the Pigs spears once, and was understandably wary of meeting it again), she had quickly made it known that she wouldn’t use it on him. This, combined with the mind boggling idea of already making three different friends in only a day or two, had him dashing to peak around a nearby chest that blocked his view of their approach. 

“YOUR ASSISTANCE WAS UNNEEDED AND UNWANTED. I WAS DOING FINE.”

“As if! You didn’t even notice that queen until it was right behind you. She would’ve smushed you before you could’ve done anything.”

“FALSE. I WAS JUST WAITING FOR HER TO BE WITHIN STRIKING DISTANCE. NOW, RETURN MY REWARD”

“Nuh uh! I killed the queen, I get to keep the hat”

“I WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO KILL HER IF YOU HAD NOT SET HER ABLAZE. I NEEDED GLANDS, NOT ASHES.”

“Then why do you want the hat so bad? You’re just jealous of how I look with it.”

The two approaching figures were both taller than Wormwood, and seemed to be fighting with each other. One was a nice looking lady with an intense glare to her that set off Wormwood’s nerves in a way he couldn’t quite put words to. Her clothes were singed, and she was sporting a fantastic hat. It made her look like a bug, with big eyes and fangs like some of the leggy bugs he had seen around. He could see why the other friend wanted it, it was nice. The other figure was a shiny robot with a blank expression, except for maybe a mild glare that seemed to be just their default expression. Both of them had backpacks and weapons, and the lady had something tucked under her arm as she posed with the hat. 

“THIS IS FOOLISHNESS. I HAVE NO NEED TO BE JEALOUS OF FLESHLINGS WHEN I AM ALREADY CLEARLY SUPERIOR IN EVERY ASPECT.” The robot rolled their eyes as best as they could, before scanning over the camp. The construction worker seemed to have fixed most everything since the last attack, which they could begrudgingly be thankful for. Everything was in order. Except for...

“HALT. DETECTING... UNKNOWN.” At these words, whatever had been peeking out from behind the trinkets chest had ducked back out of view. Wx-78 squeezed their spear tighter. “A HUNT, THEN.”

Willow placed a hand on Wx-78’s shoulder. “Now hold on, what did you even see? Are you sure it’s not Chester again? Don’t just kill it,” Willow said, even after Wx shook of her loose grip and strode towards camp. Though, even she was doubting it was Chester. Whatever it was was much more green than Chester. She could smell food cooking, so it was probably just one of their campmates. Or maybe Wilson was ‘experimenting’ with the bush hat again. Scientists.

Once into camp, Willow spotted Wig and Winona standing near the crock pot, arguing over its contents. Wilson, bereft of any type of hat, was tinkering near the Science Machine, making notes in his journal. Wx-78 was out of sight, but she could hear the robot digging through their tent, so that answered that. May as well check in with the nerd lord to see what was going on with the green thing. Besides, in his distracted state, a spook would be hilarious. 

True to form, Wilson let out a girlish screech when Willow slapped a hand on his shoulder, before turning to give her a suitably ticked deadpan at her giggles. “Hello again, Ms. Willow. I really must ask that you stop doing that. Although, heart failure would be a new way to die here.” He gave it some consideration as he waited for Willow to stop laughing, making a note in his journal. “Now, is there anything I can actually help you with, or did you just come here to startle me?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willow sighed, wiping one last tear from her eye. “Wx got all weird coming into camp, saying they saw something weird and going all ‘attack’ mode, though it doesn’t look like they’ve found anything yet.” Willow looked puzzled at Wilson’s panicked face, as he hurried to stand up and look around. “You guys didn’t find anything new, did you?”

“Oh no, no, no, where did it go,” Wilson muttered, looking around. Wormwood wasn’t near Winona, who he had thought was watching him. Of all the times for the kid to wander off... Wilson looked back to Willow after she made a small expectant noise. “Ah. Yes, I suppose an explanation is expected.” He ran a hand through his hair, getting his thoughts in order. “Alright, so I found a new... survivor by the gate the other day. Brought him back to camp, but he may have run off somewhere. Similar to Webbers ... odd appearance, this one seems plant-like in nature.” At Willows look, Wilson quickly added “He seems perfectly harmless! Didn’t even have any weapons when I found him, and is over all aggressively friendly.” Wilson sighed, saying, “Just please help me find him? Winona wanted me to introduce him to camp tonight, and that’s a little hard if you or Wx-78 run him through with a spear first.” 

Willow just huffed a frustrated breath, before agreeing to help. The two split up, and Wormwood was shortly discovered to have hidden in the garden, blending in expertly with the berry bushes there. Hand in hand with Wilson, they headed back to the fire pits, where an expectant Wx-78 had been directed. 

“WHAT IS THIS,” said Wx-78, standing by the fire pits. The pathetic humans had demanded he remove his weapons for some inane reason. Wx only agreed because they were confident that they could take any of them in a fist fight due to their superior armor. Although this was shaping up to be more of a petty introduction than the hunt that Wx had been looking forward to. The unknown had been brought forward by the scientist, where a disgustingly sweet smile rested on its face. At least its teeth were impressive. 

Wilson looked from Wormwood to the others. “Ah, well I suppose introductions are in order. This is-”

Wormwood spoke up, too excited to wait his turn. “I’m Wormwood! So many new friends, hooray!” He bounced up and down by Wilson’s side, but remained linked hand to hand with the scientist. After a quick round of introductions from the remaining teammates, the group turned to the feast that Wigfrid and Winona had been cooking up. Willow stoked the fire to a roaring height, before plopping to sit next to Wormwood. 

“What are you doing all the way over here, Wormwood? You should come closer to the fire, it’s awesome!” At his determined head shake, Willow deflated, before coming up with an idea. “You’re not scared, are you? It’s just a little fire.”

“Not little! Stay back,” retorted Wormwood, crossing his arms. “Bad fire!” Willow whined and tried to pull him over, but this seemed to be one thing he was adamant about. 

“Fine, fine, you party pooper.” She went back to her seat inches from the blaze, and played with a stick in the ashes. There would be some lovely embers later. “Oh! Why did you run away earlier? When Wx and I were coming into the camp?” Willow asked, grabbing the attention of the robot as well. 

Wormwood put his head to the side, seeming to think about it. “When robot friend saw me, I ducked from yell. Then you wanted to play hide and seek, so I had to go hide before you found me again!” Wormwood says, waving his arms to demonstrate. “But then science man was worried, so I stopped. It was a good spot though!” He pouted for a moment, before smiling again. “We can play again though! I’ve never had a friend to play with before!”

Willow’s eyes were watering. “Oh my god...” Wormwood looked at her quizzically, moving just slightly towards her and her fiery seat. She stood with a rush and scooped him into a hug, saying, “How are you this cute! Of course I’ll play with you, Wormy! You, me and Bearnie will be the bestest of friends, just you wait and see.” Wormwood flailed a little in her grip, but soon just smiled and hugged back, basking in the attention while the two chattered away about plans. Wx-78 continued to watch, processing information. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer is weird, work is weirder, but I'm still trying to post on Sundays. Kudos & comments are greatly appreciated, and helps to fuel my motivation to write for this story!


	8. Under Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some are excited to let Worm in, others are more doubtful. Most turn in for the night, but both Wx-78 and Wormwood stay up, since neither particularly sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my strongest chapter, but you win some, lose some. Inspiration is harrrrrd.  
> Kudos/comments encouraged, I don't spellcheck this stuff so if you see something off, lmk

As the sun set further, the feast wrapped up. All good parties must eventually come to an end, and nobody wanted to stay up too late in the dark. Well, at least nobody that actually enjoyed sleeping wanted to stay up later. 

“You good on firewood?” said Winona, as she swept away the last of the scraps from dinner. Wx-78 made a non-commital grunt in response, as they sat leaned against the stack of wood, facing the fire pit. The didn’t deign to respond to her quiet “G’night” as Winona made her way to her tent, leaving the camp in silence outside of the crackle of the fire. While they would never tell anybody this, night time was actually one of their favorite times of day in this world. It used to infuriate them to no end, with the need to stay in one place, and be forced into inactivity, but with the increase in survivors there was an increase in noise, in needless interaction and socialization. The only thing close to peace and quiet at camp was during these dark hours when the rest went to sleep. Of course, as a superior being, Wx-78 did not require such silly things as ‘sleep’. Such an extended period of vulnerability would be pointless. 

So instead of wasting away time in their tent, Wx-78 “volunteered” to watch the camp most nights, and use this time of solitude to tend to their various tools. Armor always needed repairing, tools needed to be sharpened and refit, and the fire pit needed tending to. Traps constructed, fishing rods strung, there was endless work to be attended too. Nominally, Wx could leave it all to the handywoman, but there was always pride to be found in a freshly sharpened spear. And doing nothing would be worse. 

A small noise from one of the tents drew Wx-78’s attention for a moment, before they spotted the plant child extracting himself from the fire hazard’s tent. Willow had insisted on sharing her tent with the newcomer, claiming that she already shared with her toys and that it would make it more comfortable for the plant. And yet here he was, intruding on Wx’s work. 

“WHAT DO YOU WANT,” stated Wx-78, sharpening their spear. Once they had promised the viking that they would leave the plant alone, they’d been allowed their weapons again. Not that they were afraid to go back on their word. The warrior had nothing on them. “GO BACK TO YOUR TENT.”

Wormwood shook his head for a moment, before sitting down by the much more reasonably sized fire. He was still unusually far away from it, but Wx’s highly logical processors could easily reason that he was staying back due to his highly flammable nature. Noted for future conflicts. 

“Don’t need sleep yet,” Wormwood responded, looking up at the night sky with a strange look on his face. “Not hurt, so wanted to see friend.” At Wx-78’s incredulous expression (a combination of limited facial movement and an auditory cue), Wormwood pointed upwards at the sliver of moon that was just visible over the peaks of the trees. 

Wx made another disapproving sound, putting down the finished spear for a worn out ax, before resuming sharpening. “FALSE, IT IS A ROCK.” Wormwood merely looked confused at this statement, so Wx explained further. “ROCKS LACK SENTIENCE, AND THEREFORE CANNOT HAVE ‘FRIENDS’.” Why were they explaining this to a... child?

“Sentence means talking, right? Moon talks to me!” Wormwood exclaimed, crossing his arms with a small pout. He didn’t hold it for long however, as he was too happy overall to be put off by something as trivial as this. “Hard to hear, but sings to me sometimes!”

Wx-78 gave Wormwood a long stare, before simply stating, “THATS LUNACY.” Laughing at their own joke, they threw a partially constructed rabbit trap at Wormwood’s feet. “BUT IT IS AN ENTERTAINING IDEA. YOU MAY STAY, ONLY IF YOU MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL.” Wormwood happily leaped on the trap, messily weaving the grasses together. Wx left it at just that for a while, before deciding that some inquiries would not be amiss. 

“YOU ARE NOT HUMAN, CORRECT? OR WERE YOU MERELY A CHILD SWALLOWED BY A PLANT? IT WOULD NOT BE THE FIRST TIME.”

Wormwood thought for a while. “No, only plant. Plants are friends.” A small smile. “And the moon!”

Wx-78 just nodded, switching tools once more. “WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THESE HUMANS THEN?”

Wx scowled as Wormwood sang praises for all the pathetic humans of the camp, although it was of note that he did not seem to know any other humans, as he did not mention anyone else. 

“YOU DON’T NEED TO LISTEN TO THEM. JUST BE MY MINION. IT’S A HIGHLY SOUGHT AFTER ROLE. “ A plant minion would be far more preferable than a filthy organic human minion, and much more useful that the living storage chest. 

“What’s minion?” Wormwood had finished the first trap, and picked up a second. Good, there was some semblance of sense in there, no matter how far deep it was buried. However, the naivete was an advantage for now. 

“IT IS A FRIEND, BUT YOU DO WHATEVER I TELL YOU TO DO.”

“So we’ll be friends?”

“...YES.”

“Yay! Friend, friend...” 

The rest of the night was spent in a similar fashion of questions, repairs, and dubious definitions of ‘friendship’. Surely, this won’t cause any problems in the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet chapters is the goal. I have a 2nd chapter written up already, which will be up in a week, if everything stays on track. Other characters will be added to the list as they appear in the story!


End file.
